


Safety is Relative

by captainshellhead, vibraniumstark



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Bodyguard, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Identity Porn, M/M, Marvel 616 - Freeform, Pining, Secret Identity, Stony Trumps Hate 2017, pretty mild actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2019-06-18 15:06:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15488604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainshellhead/pseuds/captainshellhead, https://archiveofourown.org/users/vibraniumstark/pseuds/vibraniumstark
Summary: The suit needs repairs, and Tony thinks he's being clever when he tells the Avengers that Iron Man is away on personal business...until Steve helpfully volunteers to be Tony's bodyguard in his place.





	Safety is Relative

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ckhatter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ckhatter/gifts).



> For the prompt of "Bodyguard AU" for the charity auction...last year. Sorry this took so long!

Tony switched on Iron Man's communicator and sent a ping to Cap, letting him know that Iron Man was looking for him. The machines behind him thrummed quietly as they worked, and he could feel the heat on his back of his neck. The armor fabrication would take another few hours to complete. After that, the system's new software would need to run through his standard stress tests and debugging before it would be ready for a field test. After a few days he would be good to go with a newly updated suit, but until then, he'd need to lay low.

The communicator chimed once, alerting Tony that Steve had responded to his ping. He double-checked that Iron Man's voice synthesizer was online before answering.

"Iron Man," Steve greeted him. His voice was cheery, if slightly out of breath. Tony glanced at his watch and balked at the time: just past 5 a.m. Steve was probably on his way back from his morning run. He hadn't realized how late it was, or rather, how early. He'd been engrossed in working on Iron Man's newest upgrades, and time had gotten away from him. That explained why he was so tired.

"Morning, Cap," Tony said, grateful that the voice modulator kept Iron Man’s voice flat enough to disguise how tired he sounded. He pressed his palms against his eyes until he saw spots, though they felt no less strained when he opened them again. "Sorry, it's early. I just wanted to let you know that I'll be unavailable for a few days."

"Is everything okay?" Steve asked. Tony had expected the question, and he quickly answered before Steve would worry himself in knots.

"Nothing to worry about," Tony said. "Just taking some personal days. I'll be back before you know it." By his estimations, Iron Man would be up and running in a little over 80 hours. He was sure the Avengers could make due without him for that long.

“Sure thing, Shellhead,” Steve said. “I was just—is that your phone?”

Behind him the lab phone had begun to ring, sending a strange, trilling feedback through the voice modulator. Tony chuckled at the confusion in Steve’s voice. Iron Man didn’t have much use for a telephone, with the communicator built into his helmet. He’d better sign off before Steve tried to guess where he was.

“That’s my cue to go, I think,” he said. “Talk to you later, Cap.”

 

 

The call was quick, kept brief for Tony's sake, maybe, and more so Pepper's sanity.

Tony glanced at his watch again and wondered whether Pepper would kill him if he paused for a quick shower. He’d better not risk it. She was irritated enough to learn that he’d forgotten his travel plans the first time his pilot had called to check his ETA. He could shower on the plane.

It was a long flight to Sydney. The World Alternate Energy Conference wouldn’t start until the morning after he was scheduled to arrive, but the longer it took them to take off, the less sleep he was going to get. Tony had agreed to being Keynote speaker months ago, as well as to do some minor judging for the University’s poster presentation fellowships. Then, once Pepper had responded and made all the arrangements...he’d promptly forgotten. Normally Pepper could forgive him, but considering that Stark Industries would be making some very important announcements involving their break into the energy sector, she expected him to make a very good impression.

...He still needed to write his speech.

Tony was running opening lines through his head as he made his way up the basement stairs. He wasn’t going to waste time packing—he’d just have something delivered to the hotel—which would give him enough time to grab something to eat on the drive to the airport. He barely made it out of the basement.

"Tony!" Steve called out to him before he quite made it to the door. When he turned around Steve was there, coffee in one hand, extending a brown paper bag toward him with the other. "I noticed the light on in your lab when I left for my run. I figured you'd had a long night..."

"Oh," Tony said. "You didn't have to." Steve shrugged and wiggled the bag back and forth, displaying the name of his favorite bagel shop. Tony shuffled his too-light briefcase into his other hand and accepted the offer of breakfast. 

"I don't want to hold you up," Steve said.

"No, it's fine," Tony said, despite having been sprinting out the door only moments ago. He glanced at his watch, then back to Steve, and decided he could spare a few minutes. "Part of the benefits of owning a plane. You get to decide when you leave."

"Plane?" Steve asked. "You're going somewhere?"

"I'm speaking at a conference in Sydney. It's sort of last minute," he added. Tony pointedly left out the (minor) detail that it was only last minute because he'd forgotten about it _until_ last minute. Concern creased Steve's brow. 

"Without a bodyguard?" Steve asked.

Tony tilted his head, shrugged. "Oh, Iron Man will—"

"Iron Man told me he would be away for a few days," Steve said, before Tony could finish the thought.

"Ah,” Tony said. He poked around in the bag until he found a poppy seed bagel, then tore himself a bite. “Well, last minute plans. That’s why I pay him so well,” he said, rudely through a mouthful.

"He said it was personal business," Steve said, disapproval etched into his tone.

"He—" Tony trailed off. Shit, right. Damn Steve for looking out for him—for Iron Man, that is. He couldn't exactly _demand_ Iron Man abandon something important enough to warrant a leave from the Avengers. Tony rubbed his fingers on the corner of the bag thoughtfully. "He did... say that. Uh, well. I'm sure I can manage without him, then. It's only a few days."

Steve looked truly disapproving now. "A lot can happen in a few days.”

Tony shrugged and took a sip from the coffee Steve brought him. It was good, just how he always took it, and, most importantly, it stalled his response. In truth, Tony could don one of the older Iron Man models in a pinch. They didn't react nearly as fast, and he always ended up a bit battered and bruised after trying to use a less up-to-date model, but he'd handled worse. He wouldn't be completely defenseless.

He couldn't exactly explain that to Steve, though.

"I’ll come with you," Steve declared. Tony nearly spat out his drink.

"No," he said, before he could even process a more tactful response. Steve crossed his arms stubbornly, and Tony clarified, "I can't take you away from the Avengers."

"You take Iron Man away all the time," Steve said. 

“He’s my bodyguard,” Tony sighed. “Listen, Steve, it’s not that I don’t want you to come along,” in fact, Tony wanting Steve along was solidly marked down in the list of reasons for him not to come, “I just think you’re overestimating how dangerous my life is. It’s just a speech.”

"Really? You're speaking at a conference, where your name and location will be public knowledge. You take your bodyguard everywhere, don't you? What happens if the wrong person notices he's not around? That's a big risk, Tony."

"It's not _your_ job to worry about it," Tony said.

"Then make it my job," Steve said. He crossed his arms, stubborn. "You need a bodyguard. I'm offering. I'll go pack."

"It’s a nice offer, but I actually need to leave—"

"You said the plane could wait," Steve said.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, silent. Tony racked his brain for another excuse, something that would let Steve off the hook. Steve was _Captain America_. He had much better things to be doing with his time than following Tony around, babysitting him. Damn his self-righteousness. Steve would disagree if Tony argued that protecting him was a waste of Steve’s time, but if Tony argued it was a waste of his own time, he would be hurt. 

Tony couldn't think of any excuse that wouldn’t either contradict what he’d already said or make him come across like a man desperate to hide something. The silence stretched longer than was entirely comfortable, until finally Steve smiled, satisfied that he'd won.

"Give me ten minutes," he said. He turned and left Tony in the entryway, coffee and bagels in hand. He stared after him as he made his way down the hallway to his room and took a single assessing glace at the doorway. Tony took a sip of his coffee, and sighed, and prayed that this weekend would be an uneventful one.

 

  
It was nearly 8 p.m. by the time they landed in Sydney. The hotel was bustling with late-night guests, most of them preparing for tomorrow's conference, some of them wealthy tourists who looked baffled by the crowd. The concierge recognized him immediately and gestured them past the crowd to hand Tony his room keys, already neatly sealed in an envelope with too much gold leaf for something that would land in the trash the moment he stepped into the room.

Tony led the way to the elevator while Steve trailed behind with their bags. Tony had tried to take his, but Steve had only shrugged him off and gathered them both up easily. Tony was far too jet-lagged to argue with him, so he only led the way silently.

He had to swipe the key twice before it beeped their permission to enter. Tony made a beeline for the bed and kicked off his shoes, tossed his tie on the floor, and collapsed into the pillows. Steve paused to flip the security latch on the door before he followed Tony into the suite.

"Is this...right?" Steve asked. Tony cracked an eye and gave him an inquisitive look. Steve was scanning the room, and Tony followed his gaze. Sure, the room was on the smaller end, but it was hardly shabby. Even weeks ago, the hotel had been mostly booked by the time Tony made his reservation. He thought, given the short notice, they'd done a great job accommodating him. Anyway, Steve didn't strike him as the type to complain.

Tony was about to tease him for it, and then Steve's gaze had settled on where Tony lay, and something about the way he was looking at the bed was enough to make it click.

The bed. Singular.

"Oh," Tony said. As far as Steve knew, Tony was booking for two people, for himself and for Iron Man. The look on Steve's face suddenly seemed a lot more...carefully polite, as he took in the single-bed room that the Tony and Iron Man were going to share. " _Oh_!" Oh, god, Steve thought that he and Iron Man were... "No, it’s—the hotel was all booked up, there were no two rooms together, so," he trailed off, realizing that the defensive rambling wasn't doing him any favors. Steve nodded, the tips of his ears slightly pink, and Tony finished with a defeated mumble: "...I can ask for a roll-away bed."

"The couch is fine," Steve said.

Tony eyed it dubiously. It looked a bit small for Steve's six-foot frame.

"That can't be comfortable," Tony said. "At least take the other half of the bed. There's plenty of room." He had sprung for a king-sized suite, at least.

"This is fine," Steve said. He shook his head stiffly, and Tony didn’t doubt that he was considering the possibility of his friend and his friend’s employer sharing a king-sized bed… Well, there were worse rumors about Tony Stark, at least. Poor Iron Man, though; his reputation didn’t deserve that. Tony tried not to laugh at himself as Steve settled on the couch, feet propped on one arm rest, head resting on the other. Tony watched him for a moment while he tried to get comfortable.

“Seriously?” Tony asked. “This bed can fit four of you. I don’t mind.” Steve pressed his lips together, and Tony could tell he was considering it. Tony grabbed one of the pillows and threw it at him, so that Steve was forced to sit up to catch it. “You can have that half,” he said. 

Steve grumbled, but Tony just rolled over before he could argue any more. For a moment there was only silence, and then the light clicked off, and the edge of the bed dipped as Steve sat down. For a moment Tony wondered if Steve was planning on sleeping on top of the covers. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Steve pulled his shirt over his head. He tossed it in the general direction of his suitcase, and then tugged the covers down. Ah. Well, good, let Steve get comfortable. 

The bed was large enough that neither of them would mind the sharing. Steve would have to reach fairly far to even touch him—not that he’d want to, apparently, since Steve settled as close to the edge of the bed as he could manage. 

 

 

Jet lag always threw Tony’s already oft-neglected sleep schedule. After staying up so late yesterday to work on the Iron Man suit, he'd slept for a large portion of the plane ride. That had been a mistake, and he hadn't been able to sleep for more than a few hours at the hotel. He'd finally given up around four in the morning and committed to being tired. Steve had shifted further toward the middle of the bed sometime in the night, and had also gathered up most of the pillows into an unwieldy pile that he was somehow managing to roll on top of, but there was still plenty of room for Tony to sit. He settled on the other side of the bed with his laptop to get some work done.

He was a bit surprised by how long Cap managed to sleep in, considering how early he woke up in his normal routine. Tony emerged from a quick shower just after seven in the morning to find Steve in his full Captain America uniform, adjusting his cowl in the small mirror standing on the nightstand.

"You brought your suit?" he asked. Steve jumped, having not noticed him come out from the bathroom. He looked sheepish.

"Is it all right?" Steve asked. "I figured. I mean, Iron Man—"

"Iron Man's a bit of a special case. You may feel a bit out of place in that,” he said. Tony shrugged. “Don't worry. We can pick something up for you."

"You don't have to," Steve said.

"I need to pick up my own suit, anyway," he said. Steve gave him a look, confused, so he explained: "It's easier than keeping a suit crisp for a twenty-hour flight." That, and he’d completely forgotten his suit while packing, but Steve didn’t need to know that part.

Steve still looked unsure. Tony shrugged, stopping by the door to slide into his shoes. “You could stay in the hotel, if you’d prefer,” he said. It was a genuine offer, not a challenge to his body-guarding abilities, but Steve looked offended by the notion, anyway. Tony threw up his palms and smiled at the little victory, anyway. 

"Great. It's settled, then," Tony said. If he was going to have Captain America tailing him all over the expo, he was at least going to take advantage of the chance to dress him up. "Let's not keep them waiting."

 

  
The tailor’s shop was somewhat cramped, and the glass on the entryway was plastered with years’ worth of sale flyers. Tony’s suit was ready for him at the counter, alongside another in a slightly different style than he’d asked, which the man argued suited the occasion even better. Tony hummed and agreed to take both, rather than arguing. He gestured the tailor back toward Steve, who at that exact moment was busy balking at the price tag of one of the ties on the shelf. Noticing their attention, he quickly tried to hide his rudeness.

“I’ll need a suit for my friend here. For today, I’m afraid,” Tony said.

The man agreed wholeheartedly, as people often did when accepting Tony Stark’s business. He seemed less certain, glancing from the tape measure stretched across Steve’s shoulders and the racks behind them. It was too short notice to make something completely bespoke, so they would have to make due with something modified.

Tony leaned his elbows on the reception desk. For a few minutes, he watched them work. He browsed the racks a bit, careful to stay out of their way. One of the clerks was stocking shelves in the back room, and he paused to chat with her if only to waste the time. She told him all about her daughter, as parents whose children showed even the mildest interest in science or engineering tended to do. In her daughter's case it was building with Legos. Tony was so charmed by the pride in her voice as she showed him pictures from her wallet that he gave her his card, with Bambi's number and instructions to tell her that Tony had recommended her, if her daughter was ever interested in one of Stark Industries' youth robotics camps. Then he paid for his own suit and changed into it in the back room, and then arranged for the suit he was wearing to be dry cleaned and returned to his hotel room.

He returned to the front to find Steve getting a funny look from one of the seamstresses, who measured and re-measured his waist and then squinted at the number like it was lying to her. They looked busy. He could only pretend to be interested by the reams of fabric for so long, and after another fifteen minutes passed his restlessness won out. Tony glanced and his watch and then wandered back toward the front of the store. He'd seen a coffee shop across the street on the walk over, and so he headed outside into the fresh morning air, half for something to occupy his time, and more so because he hadn't had any caffeine all morning, and he'd rather his lack of sleep not catch up to him any time soon. 

The line in the shop was shorter than when they'd first passed, now that the morning rush was over. Tony ordered two coffees without much fuss at all, felt silly putting such a small charge on his Amex, and instead dug around in his wallet for cash, found no bills smaller than a fifty dollar note since he hadn’t expected to be out an about, and decided it would have to do. He headed toward the pickup area before they could offer him change. Tony winked at the barista who'd drawn a little smiley face on both cups. 

Someone grabbed his elbow and tugged him around, and Tony nearly dropped the cups in surprise.

"There you are," Steve said. 

"Jeez, Cap," Tony said. He held up the second cup. "No need to panic. I got one for you, too."

Steve, torn between maintaining his stern little pout and staring at his cup suspiciously, only frowned at him. "I got you cream and sugar. I wasn't sure what you were in the mood for," Tony supplied, as though that was what Steve was hung up on. This little quip dragged him from _bemused by coffee cup being thrust at his face_ and firmly into _irritated with Tony_ territory again.

"I've been running up and down the block searching for you," Steve said. He didn't look like he'd been running, but then again Tony had seen him run from the mansion up to Pelham Bay Park, down to Brighton Beach and back again, and he hadn't looked much worse for it then, either. 

"I haven’t been gone that long," Tony said. "I was just about to head back."

"Which would have been fine, if you warned me where you were going," Steve said, voice heavy with disapproval. "Do you do this to Iron Man, or is it just me?"

Tony was tempted to be smart, but Steve looked genuinely upset by the notion that Iron Man had to put up with this. 

"No," Tony admitted. "I usually don't leave without him." Which was technically true. He couldn't exactly explain why that was, or why he was so unused to making sure his bodyguard was in tow, so instead he just apologized. 

Steve seemed a bit caught off guard by the honest response. "Well," he said. "Okay. Please don't do it again."

"I do have one question," Tony said. "Did you steal that?"

Steve furrowed his brow in confusion. His first thought was to look at his coffee cup, but then his gaze traveled up to his wrist, and the very well-tailored, very expensive sleeve wrapped around it. Steve’s eyes widened as he realized what he'd done. Tony couldn't help but laugh.

"I didn't think—I was worried about you," Steve said defensively. Cheeks flush, he tugged at his collar uncomfortably, but all the motion did was pull the shoulders of his suit tight, flaunting what was beneath. Tony had to give the tailor some credit—he'd done a hell of a job on such short notice. He smiled privately to himself, mentally calculating how much he was going to tip the man.

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Tony asked, fully aware that Steve could have said the same to him. Steve looked unimpressed, but he took a begrudging sip of his coffee as he held the door open. Tony doubted the tailor was particularly worried. Tony had already paid for his own suit, so the shop had Tony’s card on file. Steve still looked guilty for walking off with the merchandise, though. Tony couldn't help but tease him. "Let’s get you squared away. Can’t have Captain America caught darning and dashing, after all… Then you can take me to the show." Tony glanced at his watch. "We're just about in time to be fashionably late."

 

By the time they arrived, most of the early birds had already made their ways inside. They signed in at the front, Tony got his badge, and Steve got a little sticker with "guest" written on it in red Sharpie, helpfully provided by a twenty-something volunteer at the check-in desk. She’d drawn a winky-face in the corner, a harmless attempt at flirting that Steve rewarded with a charming smile. It looked out of place with Steve’s fresh-pressed suit, and Steve placed it delicately, like the adhesive would burn a hole in the fabric. He'd asked on their way to the Expo how much his suit had costed, and Tony hadn't had the heart to tell him when his guess was hilariously low. He must have seen it on Tony's face, though, because he'd spent the last few minutes walking as though the tailor had molded the suit from Fabergé eggs.

Steve stuck close to him as they broke through the group of loiterers at the main reception area and made their way into the Expo hall. The crowd would be worst around the main stage, but Tony would rather wander through the expo tables and poster sessions on the outskirts of the venue. It wasn’t like he needed to save himself a spot with a good view. 

He expected Steve to follow behind diligently. Tony had employed plenty of bodyguards before he’d become Iron Man, and while having someone tailing him every moment would take a little getting used to, he could live with another person shadowing him a few feet behind, or with turning to talk to a vendor only to catch a glimpse of his security out of the side of his eye—

A hand settled against his lower back, ushering him through the crowd, and Tony’s mind went blank for one pitiful moment of surprise, but of course Steve wasn’t familiar with the usual protocol for security, and he wasn’t aware that a bodyguard was supposed to give him the illusion of personal space, at the very least, and certainly not put a hand on the small of his back— 

And anyway, they were friends, so he really shouldn’t be uncomfortable with a friendly touch, and he didn’t really want Steve to stop—which, of course, meant that he should probably ask him to. But, well, now they’d been walking that way past the entire reception, so it was probably too late to bring it up without making things weird... 

Tony cleared his throat, too quiet in the gentle din of conversation in the Expo room to be heard, and made his way over to the first table. He was overthinking things. Thankfully the crowd made it difficult to walk side-by-side, and after the first table Steve dropped away to trail behind him again. Steve followed along diligently, looking very grave in his suit and all around taking things much too seriously. He had to admit, Steve did make navigating the crowd easier than usual. He was being stopped only half as much as he usually would in a crowd like this, and Steve glaring distrustfully at every person who stopped him meant that only the ones who were absentmindedly passionate about their research actually stayed to chat, and those conversations were the most fun, anyway. They made their way through the vendor tables in record time, and Tony even had a chance to loop back around to a few tables for a second look.

Tony turned to look back at the crowd. By the clock on the wall, he had another fifteen minutes before he needed to think about finding the main presentation stage. There was a poster session somewhere on the third floor, with graduate students presenting their current research. Tony always liked dropping in on those; they always appreciated his advice, when they weren't falling over themselves trying to answer his questions without looking too star struck. Maybe he'd swing by...

A hand brushed his arm, feather-light, and that train of thought flew directly out the window. Steve was leaning in far closer than was strictly necessary, and he spoke softly so that no one could overhear. The closeness felt strange. He wondered if anyone noticed how Iron Man never got this close to Tony Stark in public.

"We should head toward the stage," Steve said. His hand was warm on Tony’s shoulder, a little more forward than a bodyguard should be, but, Tony told himself again, still reasonable for a friend. "I want to get a look around before your speech."

Tony swallowed and nodded. "If you want, you could scope it out while I take a peek at the poster session—”

“Tony,” Steve shot him an exasperated look, and Tony was surprised to realize how chastised it made him feel. “I’m not leaving you alone. That defeats the purpose. We either go _together_ or not at—” 

The resounding boom drowned out the last word, but it was Tony’s heartbeat that overshadowed the initial screams as a cloud of dust and plaster rained down from the ceiling. Tony’s first instinct was to jump forward, to find out what was happening, to help. His fingers itched for his briefcase, but of course, his briefcase and the suit were both back home in New York City. He aborted the jerky movement to grab at it where it would be at his side.

He'd packed one of the older, collapsible models into his luggage, tucked away at the bottom of his bag in his hotel room. He hadn't brought it, because he hadn't thought he would need the damn thing.

Stupid! 

He was fairly certain he'd seen a booth a few feet ahead that had some promising equipment, and Tony instinctively tried to run for it. There had to be _something_ that he could use to defend himself, the rest of the guests at the Expo, his tech—

Steve grabbed him around the waist from behind, pulling him back away from the calamity. Tony yelped in surprise, clutching at Steve's arm with both hands before he realized what was happening. Tony actually felt his feet leave the ground for a brief moment, when the direction Steve was headed directly conflicted with his own. In one motion Steve spun him around and pressed him against the back wall, off hand on Tony’s chest, his other arm raised instinctively in front of him, as though holding a phantom shield.

Tony caught the sharp scent of his aftershave as he put his body between Tony and whoever was threatening the expo. Tony shoved back against Steve, trying to get him to move aside, but it was like pushing against a concrete wall. Past the bulk of Steve's shoulder, Tony watched the booth he'd been aiming for get knocked over by the fleeing crowd, contents scatting underfoot and disappearing among the panicked throngs. Steve’s hand tightened in Tony’s shirt, his fingers clutching the fabric.

Tony couldn’t see exactly what was happening beyond the smoke, but he could see bulky silhouettes rising behind the dust. The explosion was next to the prototype displays, but he doubted that there had been an accident. He could see two groups in the smoke, the convention goers fleeing, frantic, and the group standing beyond them, still and measured in their movements, clearly looking for something. 

Tony’s eyes tracked the edges of the cloud of dust and plaster. The explosion was controlled, not incendiary, more likely used to demolish something, not intended to harm anyone. Hopefully none of the bystanders had been caught in it, but he couldn’t know until he got a closer look. 

“Let go!” Tony said, even as Steve’s grip tightened in response to Tony trying to pull free.

He wished he had his suit, because his suit would be able to scan for threats, or at least see through the smoke and dust to search for casualties. He needed to see for himself. 

“What are you doing?” Steve shouted. He grabbed Tony by both elbows and dragged him backwards. For a moment Tony stared at him, because surely Steve knew exactly what he was doing. Then he realized that no, Steve didn’t, because Tony Stark had no business heading _toward_ the explosion. That was Iron Man’s job, but Iron Man wasn’t here, which meant:

“What are _you_ doing?” Tony said. “You need to stop them!”

The dust was settling now, and Tony could see quite clearly the matching uniforms of whatever crazy team had broken through that wall. 

“It’s just things,” Steve said. Tony turned back to look once more. With the smoke and dust clearing, Tony could see that part of the show floor had been entirely roped off, not to open until after to demos began. With no one manning them, the thieves had already begun raiding the convention booths. Tony watched in dismay as two of masked men, unopposed, took a drill to part of the Stark Industry display.

But it wasn’t just things. It was top of the line SI tech. Tech he hadn’t finished developing. Not only would its theft lead to huge losses for SI if put in the wrong hands, it also risked them developing the fledgling tech into weapons before Tony had a chance to anticipate and counter them.

As Iron Man, he could have protected his tech. Now…

“You’re my bodyguard!” Tony said. He planted his palms on Steve’s shoulders and shoved him away, partly urging him on, mostly because he couldn’t think straight with Steve’s breath feathering his neck. “That’s my tech!”

“I’m protecting _you_ ,” Steve said.

“Protecting me also means protecting my tech!” Tony shouted at him. Trying to push against Steve, and by extension against the throng of people rushing for the exits, was futile. Tony fixed him with a furious look. Steve seemed to consider it. 

“Well?” Tony pressed. 

“Fine,” Steve said. He grabbed Tony’s wrist and pulled him around until he was next to him. Steve half-dragged him to the nearest booth, wrenched his fingers under the plating of what was certainly a very expensive prototype, and tore himself a shield. Tony swallowed as Steve turned his attention back to him and fixed him with a very intense look. “Will you evacuate with everyone else?”

Steve nodded toward the fleeing crowd, but Tony only folded his arms, eyebrow raised, and shook his head once. 

“Not a chance,” he said. To Tony’s surprise, Steve didn’t even argue. He only glanced back toward the thieves, assessing, and then nodded. 

“Promise you’ll stay close,” Tony nodded once, “and that you won’t try to fight them. I mean it, Tony.” Tony nodded again. It wasn’t a difficult promise to make—after all, he was much more concerned with keeping them from making off with his prototypes. 

Steve looked like he wasn’t sure if he could believe him, but there wasn’t time to waste on questioning. Now it was Tony’s turn to follow Steve through the convention center. It wasn’t difficult to approach the thieves—they were more preoccupied with disassembling their displays, and they weren’t paying any attention to the actual participants of the convention, after most of them had run screaming from their little fireworks display. 

Tony glanced over every booth as he passed, but there wasn’t much to work with in terms of new and groundbreaking tech. Most of the brand-new demonstrations were set up at the far corner where the wall had been broken in. 

Luckily, he knew there was at least one piece of tech that would keep them from driving off with his prototypes, and he had the beginnings of a plan to use it...if only he could get to it. 

By the time they were three table-lengths away the fleeing crowd had completely disappeared, and Steve was so focused on the enemy in front of him that even he didn’t notice when Tony ducked behind the table display beside him. 

Tony heard Steve shout to grab their attention, and he snuck a glance around the edge of the display to see their reaction when Steve told them to drop their weapons and stand down. They didn’t—unfortunately, things could never go easily—but Tony thought he might have seen a glimpse of recognition in the way a few of them glanced at each other. Even if they were skeptical as to why Captain America would possibly be in Sydney, of all places, Steve had a face that was well-known enough even all the way on the other side of the globe. The makeshift shield probably helped. 

The crack of gunfire caught Tony off guard and he flinched at the sound, but the harsh WHOOF of a fist driven into soft tissue and the surprised shouting was enough tell Tony that their aim hadn’t been good enough. Tony snuck one more glance to be certain they were distracted and then dashed for the Stark Industries booth. He had to squeeze between displays and shove aside vendor tables, but no one seemed to notice him, and Tony managed to duck behind the booth without being spotted. 

It wasn’t the best hiding place, but the obnoxiously large cardboard cutout of himself at least provided some cover from being spotted. Tony grit his teeth as he began diving into the boxes underneath the booth, hoping that his bad luck didn’t send a stray shot his way. There was nothing left on the surface of the booth. Tony had hoped that wasn’t because the thieves had already cleared it out, but as he ripped open box after box of free t-shirts and foam Koozies dread was beginning to settle over him. Damn whatever go-getter intern had set the display up early. 

Tony risked poking his head out for an instant and was glad that he did. The ground was littered in men in those ridiculously bright uniforms, some of them clearly unconscious and others trying to crawl away with as little chance of drawing attention as they could. Steve had an arm around one man’s neck and whirled on one boot to land a kick squarely into the stomach of another, his attention so focused on the group trying to overwhelm him with numbers that he didn’t see—or couldn’t spare the attention for—the group that was retreating toward the truck. 

One man yanked open the driver side door, and Tony took the door slamming shut as his signal to run. 

It was twenty feet to the truck through open space, and Tony didn’t have any delusions that he would make it there without being spotted, but if anyone had the strength to come after him after Steve had flattened them, he would deal with it then. Tony leapt up into the back of the truck at the same moment the engine sputtered to life, and Tony had to cling to the handle on the side of the door to keep from falling forwards into the truck when the driver threw it violently into reverse. 

A cascade of boxes slid toward the front of the van, and Tony stumbled after them, scanning for familiar tech. If they had already raided the Stark Industries booth, then what he was looking for would have to be somewhere—

The back of the truck dipped slightly, but it didn’t register to Tony as an abnormal movement until an angry voice shouted out at him. 

“You!” 

Tony whirled around in time to see that the dip hadn’t been the van hitting a bump; instead, it was the force of another person jumping into the reversing truck, a hasty last attempt at escaping. The woman had a busted lip that was bleeding freely, and she was breathing heavily from the sprint. Tony was not a small man, and he trained as hard as any of the Avengers, but she still looked like she could snap Tony in half—and like she was strongly considering it. 

Then, before Tony could do anything, the driver gunned it. 

This time, Tony wasn’t ready to grab onto anything, and even if he had been, the box that slid into him would have knocked him on his ass regardless. He hit the bottom of the truck, hard, and watched as one box careened out the open back door to scatter on the pavement outside the truck. The woman looked unphased and reached blindly back with the free hand that wasn’t holding onto the handle by the door to grab one of the two double doors. She slammed it shut before any of the other boxes could slide free. 

Tony wasn’t a fan of the idea of being locked inside with her, so when the van veered sharply left as the driver turned onto the highway, Tony took the chance to scramble to his feet. 

“Why am I not surprised that Captain-fucking-America and his rich-boy benefactor are here to stop us?” she mused. The words were dripping with spite, and Tony didn’t miss the way that she edged closer to the open door, as though she thought Tony might try to leap out of a truck gunning at forty miles an hour. She spit blood onto the floor, and as far as intimidation tactics went it was, uh. Fairly effective.

“‘Course, you’re probably worth more than this entire haul,” she said, finally voicing what the tiny voice in the back of Tony’s mind was thinking. Tony stepped back slightly, trying not to look like he was preparing himself, taking a stance. This was a trained professional, and he was wearing thousand-dollar shoes, and their driver was making turns like the devil himself was chasing them. He’d had worse odds. 

“I don’t want to fight you,” Tony said, in a tone he hoped would convey _but I will_ without him having to say it— 

She lunged. 

Tony hadn’t been expecting it. He’d thought he could talk to her first, try to work his way out of the situation, but she wasn’t the type to talk to him, and thousands of hours of training took over before Tony’s conscious mind even hand a chance to register the attack. He dodged left, but stepped back into the truck, keeping an eye on the door. At this speed he wouldn’t be making any escapes, and even if he’d had the chance, Tony wasn’t going to abandon his tech, but he didn’t want to give her any openings. 

She swiped again, and this time Tony knocked her wrist aside. His first strike glanced off her, but she staggered back a step to avoid him, and the van gave another lurch. Tony yelped as the momentum threw him into the wall, and before he could recover she’d thrown an arm around his neck. Tony resisted the urge to claw uselessly at the arm, in moments in vision funneled inward as she squeezed, cutting off air. He pulled his arm forward and threw all of the force he could muster into her ribs—Tony could hit hard, but he was no Steve Rogers; still, this might be the only chance he got, so he’d better do it right. 

He heard her grunt in pain as his elbow connected, and instantly the air rushed back. The door banged as she stumbled into it, nearly falling out. The hinges groaned as the wind tore at them. Tony gasped and coughed, and his throat burned even as he spun and went to swing again, to drive another fist into her sternum, her throat, her nose—

—and then the fuzzy greyness pressed in, dizziness catching up to him. He lost his balance, and in the next moment he was on the ground, and she was grabbing onto his suit jacket with both hands—

Tony grabbed her wrists and drove a knee into her side, but the angle was bad, and the shout she let out was more anger than pain as she crawled over him, put a hand around his neck and forced his head back. Wind whipped past his ears, and Tony realized two things at once. 

 

First, that they had gotten turned around in their fight, and she wasn’t trying to choke him—she had decided he wasn’t worth the trouble and was trying to throw him out of the van entirely.

The second thing was that the driver very well might have been driving like the devil was on his tail, because there was Steve, four car-lengths behind them on a bike he must have stolen in hot pursuit. 

He must not have been after Tony, because even upside down he looked as surprised to see Tony as Tony was to see him, and they shared a look of mutual shock before Tony was yanked back to the fight by a sharp pull on his suit as she tried to lift him up. Tony clutched at either side of the door to stop her, and drove a sharp kick into her thigh, then her hip, trying to knock her grip loose—

Something zinged over both of their heads, a blur of silver almost too quick to track. It collided with the back of the truck, the side, and then the woman was toppling over Tony out the back of the truck. Tony thanked every star in heaven that he was already clutching the sides of the door as she tried to grab for him. 

Her grip slipped, and Tony dove for her without thinking, but she was already out of reach. She fell, arms curled around her head, cursing and rolling to a stop in the middle of the road, quickly left in the dust as Steve swerved around her. 

Steve’s makeshift shield—the ugliest, least aerodynamic thing Tony had ever seen—clattered loudly to the ground beside him, exactly where Steve had meant it to fall. When Tony glanced back it was clear Steve was trying to shout to him, but the wind whipped away his attempt. Tony ignored the way he was pointing to him, clearly trying to give orders, clearly _pissed_ , and ducked back into the van. 

It took him three boxes to find what he was looking for. 

Tony turned it over in his hand. He’d designed this for a lot of things. Rescue efforts on high rises too inconvenient for the NYFD, runaway trains, and crashes (whether it be flight-capable heroes, planes, or idiot teenagers with a penchant for swinging themselves five hundred feet into the air). 

He would have to add car chases to the list. 

Tony pressed the button on the side of the device, arming it, and gave a few expert turns to disengage the safety lock that would otherwise only disengage after a prolonged fall, or by remote trigger. He’d also designed it not to hurt but, well. It _was_ a prototype. 

Tony grabbed onto the handle beside the door and pointed back at Steve with the hand still clutching the tiny ball. 

“Get back,” he shouted, and waited for the instant after the words had reached him, as comprehension—and apprehension—dawned on Steve’s face. Tony laughed—he couldn’t help it, probably looked a little maniacal for it—and then he spiked the device into the ground. 

 

 

 

“I quit,” Steve said. 

Tony jumped. He hadn’t heard Steve come over, but then again, his ears were feeling a little plugged at the moment. The device had worked about as well as he’d hoped it would. An instant before impact the material inside the device had expanded into an enormous cloud, that had oozed out the door of the van, gumming the tires and cushioning it into a near-stop in an instant. 

Steve had managed not to crash into them, so he must have taken Tony’s warning to heart, but he hadn’t seen Steve deal with the driver because he had been too preoccupied digging himself out. The cushion had hardened into a meringue-like texture that Tony hadn’t been expecting (it was much more rubbery in the small batches he’d been shown by R&D) but it wasn’t too difficult to break his way through, and he was quite pleased with how well the whole thing had held him in place during the crash, even if he was crumbling pieces of it out of his hair and suit, and felt like he would be knocking crumbs out of his ears for weeks. Otherwise not too bad for a high-speed crash, of sorts, with the added bonus that the huge spectacle had drawn the police and paramedics almost immediately. 

“That’s fair,” Tony sighed. “But I would like to point out that I didn’t actually hire you and, _technically_ I kept my promise... I didn’t choose to fight anyone, she fought me. I was just trying to stop the truck.” Tony could see Steve’s jaw working as he ground his teeth, but he was also looking Tony up and down and didn’t seem to disturbed by what he saw. “The EMT said I’m fine,” Tony supplied helpfully. She’d given him an adorable band-aid for the scrape where his hand had been cut on the side of the door, and an ice pack for the back of his head. 

“You?” Tony asked, just to be sure. 

“I’m fine,” Steve sighed, and dropped down onto the edge of the ambulance beside Tony. He’d already talked to the first responders while Tony was getting looked over, and Tony had seen them load the two from the front of the van into a police car. 

This time, when Steve rested a gentle hand on his knee, Tony didn’t jump. He’d almost been expecting it, just like he’d expected the look Steve was giving him. Fond, maybe. Annoyed, definitely. And very, very relieved. 

“That scared the hell out of me,” Steve said. “I didn’t even see you climb into that van. I was just trying to get your stuff back.”

“Well,” Tony said uncomfortably, thinking back to the last moments of that fight, wondering how it would have turned out. “Thanks for the save.” He didn’t let himself hesitate. Just dropped a hand over Steve’s and gave it a squeeze, a thank-you at least. Maybe a promise. 

Then Tony hopped off the back of the ambulance, scattering white dust everywhere in a cloud. 

“Well, the Expo is almost certainly canceled,” Tony said. “And I’ve seen no less than four SHIELD agents, and at least two of them are here officially, so I don’t have to worry about my tech disappearing—well, maybe I do, but I know where to look for it, anyway. And—” 

Tony hesitated, glanced back at Steve, not quite sure if Steve was going to let him get away with brushing this aside. He wasn’t even sure, actually, if Steve was going to stay in Sydney. He _had_ just told Tony he quit. Maybe he wanted to catch the next flight out of here, leave Tony to his own problems, or—

Steve interrupted him before he could spiral. 

“We could order room service?” Steve offered. “The expo may be cancelled, but we can still take advantage of the hotel room?” 

Tony grinned. He liked that plan.


End file.
